


Wash & Dry

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, How long will he be blind, John has a past, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, but doesn't everybody?, denied love, i haven't done this in a while, maybe it will be good, mystrade, otp prompt, sherlock is blind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson meet in a laundromat. John Watson has a mysterious past which is haunting him and he must find help to protect his daughter Rosie after Mary's death; however, finding that help will lead to trouble. John is walking a tightrope and he doesn't have a safety net.





	1. Chapter 1

John shivered and ran his hands over his arms as he waited on his clothes to get out of the dryer. He looked around the laundromat and admired the silence of the midnight crowd. There were three other people in there, and none of them questioned him for walking in with a sleeping baby and no trousers. He checked Rosie’s carrier and saw that she was still sleeping peacefully and carefully hopped onto a nearby washing machine. He crossed his ankles and pulled out his phone and earbuds to try to pass time. Which worked fine until he saw a dark man in a crisp suit walk up to the washer next to him and dump blood soaked clothing in. He casually watched as the man debated how to clean the clothing and then dump half a bottle of fabric softener in the machine with reckless abandon. The man, seeming to suddenly notice the man in his pants, connected eyes with John and John’s breath caught in his throat. 

_Your electric lovvvvvve_

The lyrics blasted in his ear as he stared at the man’s deep green blue eyes and the man stared back into his own green eyes. The connected seemed to last forever, but the man quickly looked away and paced momentarily before hastily pulling out his mobile phone and calling someone. John casually turned down his music pretending to still be listening and listened to the man’s call instead. 

“Lestrade? Were you _asleep_? _While I was out there risking my life_? Very professional. No, no I do not want to speak to My-,” the man sighed dramatically and ruffled his dark black curls with one hand, “Hello, brother mine.”

The man’s fingers twisted and moved while he listened to the man on the other end of the line. He slid his hand into his pocket to try to stop the fidgeting but he couldn’t seem to hold still. 

“I know. What is that supposed to mean?! Look, I’ll keep my nose out of your business with Lestrade if you’ll keep your nose out of my business, though I know it must be hard for you with that beak of yours. Now put Lestrade back on.”

The man glanced quickly around the laundromat and connected eyes with John and then quickly looking away before lowering his voice to a soft whisper and finishing his conversation. He slid the phone into his pocket and checked the wash. 

“Hear anything interesting?”

John’s eyes widened in surprise and he opened and closed his mouth trying to find a good excuse before coming up blank. He gave in and replied, “I was just wondering why your clothes were soaked with blood..”

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John pulled his earbuds out completely and stared at the man for a second. 

“Afghanistan. How did you-”

“Is the baby yours?”

“W- Yes.”

“She’s about to start crying, might want to keep her quiet. This next part could be dangerous.”

John was about to question him when he heard the gunshot and the screams. He quickly moved to the carrier and picked up Rosie and gave her the pacifier before ducking down and hiding behind a machine. He heard shouting from multiple sources and then an authoritative voice shouting for silence. John held her against his chest and patted her back, trying to keep her quiet. He looked at his bag and quickly determined whether or not to reach for his gun. He heard a shuffle and suddenly the man from before was beside him. John flinched and pulled away slightly but then he connected eyes with the stranger and understood. John handed the man Rosie and took a deep breath before getting the gun from his bag. He looked at the man, nodded, and cocked the gun. He heard footsteps approaching and stood, aimed, and fired three times before he even realized he’d been shot.

He felt the blood for a moment before he fell backwards and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go follow my tumblr @chasinglonelydetectives and my best friend who supports me and gives me the motivation to write @gilbertalexander !!!

Sherlock paused the video on his laptop and looked back to the crying baby on his sterilized table. He pulled on his rubber gloves and looked at the baby supplies Mycroft conveniently dropped off. He pulled out diapers and baby wipes and looked at the girl, he carefully removed her diaper with the care and steady hand he would have during one of his experiments. To him it was an experiment, but he had to remind himself not to call her that. He fastened the new diaper around her and removed his gloves before putting her back in her onesie before picking her up and holding her against his chest. When Mycroft came over with the supplies he also came over with a file on John H. Watson. Sherlock stared at the file, unsure of whether or not he wanted to know everything about the man from the laundromat. 

“Sssh, Bee, it’s okay now.” He gently patted her back and packed a shoulder bag full of the important stuff from the websites he read. The bottles, formula, diapers, wipes, pacifier, and her blanket. He looked at her face and couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on his face. She had soft golden hair curling around her face and rosy little cheeks. 

“Is that where you got your name, Rosamund? From your rosy cheeks?” 

He rolled his eyes and moved her closer to his shoulder.

“Come in, Lestrade. No sense in loitering at my door.” 

Sherlock turned and glared at the detective inspector standing in his doorway, and tried to ignore the way Lestrade stared at him as if he couldn’t ever imagine Sherlock being soft. The inspector cleared his throat and nodded towards the stairs. 

“He’s awake, are you ready to go?”

Sherlock nodded and carefully pulled on his coat and picked up the shoulder bag. Lestrade led him outside. 

“Not in the police car.”

“I know, I called you a cab.”

Sherlock smirked slightly and Lestrade helped him into the cab. Lestrade shut the door and Sherlock told the cabbie where to go. He laid Rosamund in his lap and smiled. “Little bee...” He gently tickled her stomach and kissed her forehead. He watched her legs kick softly and smiled. The cab slowed to a stop and Sherlock gathered his stuff and her and carried her out of the cab and into the hospital. 

“John Watson’s room please.” 

The lady behind the counter looked at her computer and back at Sherlock. 

“Family only right now.”

Sherlock motioned with the baby on his shoulder. “I have part of his-“

“Mycroft Holmes.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at his brother standing behind him.

“I don’t need you here, Brother.”

“You need me to get in.” He showed the receptionist some papers and Sherlock watched as her eyes went wide and her face paled

“Oh, Mr Holmes, Mr Watson is in room 304”

Mycroft looked at Sherlock seriously and led him to the elevators. “Be careful, Sherlock. Some people aren’t what they seem, you should know.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, walked in and looked at his brother. 

“Oh please, Mycroft. I don’t need a file to be able to tell if someone’s _safe_.” 

The doors closed and Sherlock heard Mycroft’s statement over and over in his head. What could he mean? Some people aren’t what they seem. Sherlock knew everybody had dark secrets, skeletons in their closet, he himself included, but what could be so much worse about John? He seemed to be a single father with a troubled past. That’s fine. 

Sherlock walked out of the elevator and looked at the sign pointing which way the rooms went, and followed it to room 304. He ran a finger over the letters in the room tag and knocked three times before walking in. His legs felt weak and he had a lump in his throat but he managed a smile as he walked in. 

“Mr. Watson?”

The blond man lying in the hospital bed looked up and his face visibly brightened when he saw his daughter. He sat up with a slight grimace and smiled warmly, which made Sherlock’s stomach flutter slightly, but he reminded himself that his smile was for his child and not the lanky sociopath standing in the doorway. 

“The D.I. said you were coming by to bring Rosie. Please call me John.”

_”Rosie”, so maybe it was because of her cheeks.._

Sherlock walked over to the bed and carefully handed her to John. His hand brushed John’s when he was handing her over, and an electricity ran through him. 

“Thank you for taking care of her, Mr Holmes”

“Sherlock, please.”

The room settled into an uncomfortable silence that came along when two middle aged men were alone in a room together who don’t even know each other. Sherlock looked over John’s new wound on the right-side of his chest and bit his lip harshly. He cleared his throat and put the shoulder bag into the chair next to the bed. 

“I, uh, I brought what I could salvage from the laundromat. I kind of used one of her blankets to stop your bleeding , I’m sorry.”

John looked up and this time Sherlock felt as if he was staring directly into his soul and warming up every part of his body. “Sorry for what? Saving my life?”

Sherlock laughed awkwardly and shrugged, “Um, no. No. I just hope it wasn’t one of her favorites.”

John shook his head and grinned, “She’s strong.” He looked back down at his daughter and held her. 

Sherlock fidgeted with his gloves and finally pulled one off and left his business card on the table beside John’s bed, “My card, in case you need me. Should I call anyone to help with B-..Rosie?”

John looked up and smiled and shook his head. “My sister’s coming by later so I should be fine, but thanks. Really, thank you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat and he smiled and nodded and started leaving, but John stopped him when he got to the door. 

“How did you know? About Afghanistan?”

Sherlock looked back at the injured soldier, “Sherlock Holmes, the world’s _only_ consulting detective.”, and with that Sherlock turned his coat collar up and left the room. He smiled as he left the hospital, hoping John would call him, even if it was just to hear Sherlock’s explanation. He felt something, something he’d never felt before with this man and he had to have it, to at least figure out what it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love some feedback on what y'all would like to see from this or future fanfics! Also, could y'all suggest some chapter titles for this?


	3. Chapter 3

The weeks after the incident at the laundromat passed quickly, as John was recovering and Sherlock dealt with small cases here and there. But none of the cases he solved intrigued him as much as the case he still hadn’t solved. The attempt on John Watson’s life. 

The boys hadn’t spoken since the hospital and therefore Sherlock had little to go on. He’d been too busy saving Dr. Watson’s life to chase the shooter or even get a better look at him, but he was certain it was a he. 

Sherlock closed the door to his flat after the sobbing sisters left. They’d presented him with their case, questioning whether or not their father had cheated on their mother and had been raising a second family for most their lives. He’d simply confirmed their ideas, but somehow that turned him into the bad guy. He didn’t understand, and it frustrated him to be criticised when he’d only helped them. He turned to the wall behind the couch and stepped up onto the couch. He’d made a map to help him with this case, and it had Dr. Watson at the center. 

Mr. John H. Watson. H? What did the H. stand for? Henry? Hudson? Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to think back to the hospital when he’d checked the medical chart. For some reason he couldn’t. It was like something was clouding up his brain, he hated it. There were many details about that night that Sherlock had lost or couldn’t remember and he wasn’t sure why. His brain had never lost important details like this, he’d always made sure it wouldn’t. 

Whatever this was, he needed to get rid of it. And quickly. 

But on the upside, Sherlock could remember everything Dr. Watson had done or was wearing that night. The pajama shirt and red pants that, Sherlock happened to notice while Dr. Watson was on the phone, left little to the imagination. And it was not little. But that much could be deduced from the way he walked. Dr. Watson was wearing red briefs that night, but boxers were probably his regular choice since they would be more comfortable, but he didn’t have enough information to decide on that. Perhaps he should organize more meetings with Dr. Watson so he could… 

_NO. No. Focus._

Sherlock had just gotten back to focusing on the case, when he heard a knock on the door. He knew who it was already, but Mrs. Hudson had told him that morning that he still needed to greet his guests instead of just starting to talk about their cases so when Sherlock opened the door for Mycroft he attempted a smile and a polite “hello”.

Mycroft raised his eyebrow and entered the flat. Sherlock hated the extra two inches Mycroft had above him, it made Sherlock feel small everytime Mycroft was around. 

“Is this how you greet your friends?”, Mycroft stood there with his briefcase in his hands and a wide smirk on his lips. Sherlock knew he couldn’t reply because Mycroft had set up some sort of trap so he would seem stupid, but he also knew the conversation would not progress past that point unless he made a fool of himself. So, for the sake of efficiency, Sherlock let Mycroft make a joke of him. 

“No. Mrs. Hudson simply said-”

“Of course not. You don’t have any friends.”

Sherlock felt the sting of humiliation and felt the color run to his cheeks and even as he tried to stop it he felt himself getting more embarrassed and his cheeks getting warmer. 

“Why are you here, Mycroft?”

“It’s about Dr. Watson.” 

“I haven’t solved his case yet, I can’t recall the information it’s like something’s-”

“Sherlock, I’m removing you from the case. You’re not to speak to Dr. Watson again. Do you understand that?”

“What? Mycroft, you can’t just remove me..”

“I have. Believe me, Sherlock, this is for your own good.” 

“How can it-”

“You’ll find, Brother-mine, that there are some people who you just can’t deduce everything about. He’s one of these people. I’m simply saving you the trouble of an unsolved case and a broken… reputation.” 

Sherlock eyed his brother carefully. Mycroft never stumbled over his words unless he was with some important person from the government or lying. He looked at the wall where he had the evidence for Dr. Watson. He stepped back and walked to the kitchen where he had a cold cup of tea waiting for the past two hours. He picked it up and took a sip while Mycroft removed the evidence and placed it in a file and then locked the file in his briefcase. 

Mycroft looked at his little brother when he was done and felt a twinge of pain. There was a connection between Dr. Watson and Sherlock. A friendship or something more, but a connection none the less and he could not allow that to go on. Especially with Dr. Watson’s… other connections. Mycroft stepped towards the door to leave and looked back at his brother. 

“Do you remember Redbeardr?”

Sherlock suddenly felt sick as he remembered his childhood best friend and the adventures they’d had together. He remembered playing Pirates and Redbeard’s sudden disappearance. He had cried for weeks and weeks. 

Mycroft knew his brother was remembering Redbeard, or his idea of Redbeard and he nodded and started down the stairs to leave the building. 

“Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock stared at his cup of tea and felt the sudden numbness run through him that he’d felt so many times before. He set the cup of tea down and knew he wasn’t done with Dr. Watson’s case. There was something much deeper going on than he’d thought and Mycroft had just started him on the new case. 

Sherlock walked over towards the door and grabbed his coat. He swung it on as he descended the stairs and burst out into the cold London air. He had a lunch date with his favorite pathologist and thanks to Mycroft, he had a new topic to talk about. 

\--- 

John closed his eyes and held Rosie close to his chest. It had been too close.She was never supposed to be in harm’s way. He couldn’t let her get hurt. She was his baby. His. He kissed her forehead and gently held her as she slept. The gunshot wound was nothing. He’d been shot too many times before to care about that. The pain was nothing compared to the scare of the pain his baby could have been in. Something had to be done. His life wasn’t the only one in danger here and he knew it, he had to seek protection from them. But that meant he’d have to find someone who could keep his secret without exposing him to the law. 

He layed Rosie down in her crib and walked out of her room. He closed the door and walked to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. 

Who could protect Rosie? He couldn’t tell Harrie. Stamford would be useless, always was. But perhaps he could get a clue from Stamford. Something. 

His eyes flashed to the kitchen table. 

_Consulting Detective. Sherlock Holmes._

How could Sherlock help him? He didn’t need a detective. But there was something about the name. Holmes… 

John sat down at his laptop and typed the name into his search. 

_The Science of Deduction_

John read the blog and suddenly realized his blog wasn’t as bad as he thought. But it was interesting to read. The man was obviously bored and didn’t seem to feel too much a sense of loyalty to the law, so perhaps Sherlock could be of some help. 

John picked the card back up and put the number in his phone. He wasn’t going to call though. He was going to visit Mr. Holmes. 

John stood and started to walk back to the kitchen when he heard the alert from his laptop which told him when he got a new email. He walked back over and sat down and opened his email. 

The email was untitled, which was odd, but it suddenly made sense when John saw who sent it. 

M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus! I've been dealing with school and other things which have kept me away but I plan on finishing this fic and I've got a whole new idea for where this could go so hold onto your seat because I think it might be good!! 
> 
> As always, any notes or ideas are appreciated in the comments! 
> 
> How have y'all been?


End file.
